


until we go down

by Leraiel



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bamf!Magnus, M/M, Power Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leraiel/pseuds/Leraiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alec’s been taken -”</p><p>Magnus stands, hearing only those three words, frozen - trying to process. He attempts to compose himself; he is centuries old - the most powerful warlock in Brooklyn and perhaps even further. The wine glass, held usually with such a sure elegant grip, smashes to the ground. It cuts through the roaring sea of shock.</p><p>“How did this happen?” He struggles not to lash out in blame at dear Clary. She was innocent - save it, he warns himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after episode 13. I hope we get more bamf!magnus in season 2, because I need it and so does Alec.

Alec’s furious with himself, desperately grasping onto that red-hot anger in an effort to ignore the oppressive fear, the darkness that’s threatening to crush his chest. It’s not like he hadn't briefly considered this could happen - Alec runs through every outcome in his head, every facet of every possible plan, during the rare breaks in time when things quieten down.

Which are even rarer since they had met Clary.

Still, he’s mildly insulted that Valentine had decided to capture him and not her - his own _daughter_. He supposes, with the last ounce of his self worth, that it’s because of the parabatai bond and not because he’s weak. He must want to enforce Jace’s loyalty.

What’s the use of a physically injured soldier when you can inflict the obedience of pain through someone else, after all.

They won’t kill him for a while, at least. Not until Valentine either lashes out - he remembers the story of the falcon, remembers the way Jace had told it; hushed with the subconscious knowledge of wrongness, but steady with the unwavering certainty in his father - or perhaps, and he knows he’s being ridiculous, they’re _brothers_ , but there’s still that awful _doubt_ \- until Jace stops caring.

He intakes a sharp inhale of breath, before testing the tight bonds. It’s futile - this is Valentine they’re fighting, so he expects the awful burn of constrictive magic when he lashes too hard but it still makes his throat tighten with panic. They've already done something to him - there are cuts littering his body, light enough to not seriously injure, but deep enough to have made him grind his teeth and swallow his screams in an effort not to yell out in submission. He refuses to give them the satisfaction.

Once - Alec thinks - they may have even injected him with something, and part of him wonders what his mother would do if it turned out to be downworlder blood. The other part he feels within the sting of unfallen tears. He’d opened a new chapter of his life, he thinks bitterly, in his own handwriting, and he hadn't even begun to revel in that new-found freedom.

Fleetingly, he thinks of Magnus, with a soothing kind of regret. They hadn't been given the chance to go on their first date yet. He wishes he could have explored that part of himself. He hopes with morbid numbness Isabelle will use his death as fuel for her strength; that it won’t break her. More so, he hopes they aren't dumb enough to attempt a rescue. Alec can almost _feel_  the  _thrum_ of that awful energy from gathering demons, and worse, he knows - as he was dragged struggling into a cold damp room and onto the slab of stone he’s tied to - that they had passed too many shadowhunters to keep track of.

Alec tries to grasp and hold onto the pleasant memories; Isabelle’s laugh, her sisterly teasing, the genuine steady affection she has for him. Magnus’ lips as Alec had stolen a kiss - which still makes his face burn every time he remembers their softness, their declaration. Magnus sent him into a stammering wreck every time the two of them looked like they may be making progress, but he _wishes_ he hadn't taken it so slow. There was the wariness of the difference in their life spans, sure, but Magnus would not expect to be dealing with Alec’s mortality so soon.

The coldness is seeping into his bones - his shirt had disappeared in favour of slashing at his skin. At least there is an underlying warmth to the pain.

Alec’s eyes droop, and briefly he tries to summon the rage again, the fighting spirit.

Tired, so _tired_.

If only he had the energy to _fight_ \- to _take_ from those who were going to take _everything_ from him.


	2. Chapter 2

The doorbell rings. Reluctantly, Magnus puts down his book and makes his way to it with cat-like grace, wine glass in hand. He shimmers a quick scry through, before swinging it open with a flick of a wrist.

Isabelle, Clary and the blabbering vampire stumble in, and he notes the tears in Alec’s sister’s eyes - Clary’s nails digging into her arm, face crumpled with a desperate plea. Simon’s queasy expression. Magnus frowns - another problem with Jace, perhaps? Or - He studies the grief - _No_.

“Alec’s been taken -”

Magnus stands, hearing only those three words, frozen - trying to process. He attempts to compose himself; he is centuries old - the most powerful warlock in Brooklyn and perhaps even further. The wine glass, held usually with such a sure elegant grip, smashes to the ground. It cuts through the roaring sea of shock.

“ _How_ did this happen?” He struggles not to lash out in blame at dear Clary. She was innocent - _save it_ , he warns himself.

Clary’s posture droops.

“We walked into a trap - they - Magnus, I thought they were coming for _me_ , and Jace, I needed to rescue _Jace_ , we heard there had been a traitor - an informant… We, we set up a meeting and - ”

“They took my brother for his parabatai bond with Jace,” Isabelle finishes. Her voice trembles and her hands shake with worry, but she stands tall with retribution; ferocity barely hidden within the thin line of red lips.

Then Valentine was aiming on torturing Alec, most likely.

He remembers the way Alexander had pulled him in, strong hands and inexperienced lips, bold but _beautifully_ unsure. His jumbled words every time Magnus had flirted afterwards; insinuations of things to come. His hesitant smile - the wonder of whether he was really allowed what was blooming between them. A calmness settles over Magnus, the urge to destroy coiling up inside him. Power seeps into his veins, singing with possessive vengeance.

He has not unleashed this kind of fury for a long, _long_ time.

“Isabelle, do you know where they took him? Do you have anything I can track?”

She blinks her damp eyes clear of despair and takes a shuddering steady breath, “I have one of his arrows here.”

He takes it from her delicately, grips it tightly, closes his glittered eyes, and wills every ounce of his magic to seek out the arrow’s owner.

...An abandoned warehouse on the dockyard, flashes of darkness - a strong demonic presence - ten, no, twenty shadowhunters - a shame, they would have to be dealt with too, but no matter - a basement, a corridor, and _there._

Magnus’ heart stops for a moment as he takes in Alec’s prone body tied firmly down, seeping fresh wounds. He desperately holds onto the bond allowing him to observe, don’t let him - oh, _please_ \- and Alec’s eyelids flutter; he shifts on the table and cries out from a disturbed sleep.

He withdraws sharply, relief coursing through him, and his audience must read it because Isabelle lets out a small broken sound and Clary reaches out to hold Simon’s hand in a tight grip of comfort.

“He’s in a warehouse on the docks. I can take us there, albeit just outside to avoid detection,” Magnus lets the glamour fall from his eyes, “I’m leaving immediately. If you wish to come I will be grateful for assistance - but it will not be pretty.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for help? Alec’s parents work at the institute right? Can’t we call them?” Simon says, stammering, “We can’t just rush in, this is _Valentine_ we’re talking about, if this is the base of their operations then we’re horrendously, awfully outnumbered -”

Isabelle interrupts, “Simon, I _have_ to go - we could be too late by the time they organise themselves. This is my _big brother_. He’s life and death to me - I can’t just do _nothing_. I won’t let,” her voice cracks, but there’s determination in the tight set of her jawline, “anything happen to him.”

“We don’t get along, but Alec has saved my life countless times,” Clary adds quietly.

Simon sighs unhappily. “Well, I guess I’m coming too, then.”

Magnus nods and turns to the nearest wall, opening a portal with fluid ease. Isabelle enters first, face determined, followed by Clary with her sword at the ready and Simon at her heels. 

He struggles to reign in the power thrumming at his fingertips, before stepping through and closing it behind them.

 

The dockyard is wet from fresh rain, slicking the ugly buildings in a sickly yellow glare from city lights. There is a tension here, he can feel it; the part of him which is demon is stirring in recognition. The shipping container hiding them smells like blood, rust metallic and cloying.  He composes himself and focuses on every atom of magic inside, bright blue flames dancing in his palms.

Clary shifts and peers around the edge - quickly pulls away with a barely smothered gasp, horrified -

“We need a plan, Magnus there must be at _least_ fifty shadowhunters - demons - _Oh God_ , what if Valentine is there? There’s _no way_ we can take them all on face to face.”

Simon manages to look even more queasy, “I'm guessing there isn't a miraculous rune that will come in handy here?”

Closing her eyes, Isabelle looks pale - as if she is trying to will away the defeat creeping upon them.

“There’s no need to. I suggest you three pick off the ones that run,” he says, lip curled in anticipation, cat-eyes steely.

He won’t wait any longer. Perhaps they don’t know just how powerful he really is. It’s not hubris -  he’s not proud of being Asmodeus’ spawn - but there is no denying the blood of a Greater demon which runs through his veins - pure, possessive, scorching. And the centuries have been kind. He is not rusty. A few decades out of practice, maybe, but within this rage he is clarity sharpened to a point.

Magnus leaves them behind the container and steps out from hiding, body lithe and tall with confidence. Blue flames lick up his arms, blazing with the memory of Alec tied down and suffering. It’s a shame, he thinks, as he walks with steady surety into battle, that there would not be enough time to enjoy this.

Faintly, he hears his name, screamed in terror behind him, as the first wave of demons charge.

Magnus scoffs - the attackers falter ever so slightly - and twists his fingers into a brief elaborate flourish, purple painted nails gleaming in the inferno, before swiftly clenching his hands into a fist. The fire dances up around the demon’s necks and _constricts_. They fall, grasping at air with awful gurgling. A desperate wheeze, a slump, and they’re gone. He smiles.

A quick replenish of flames, and he burns another five of them into a gasping charred mess - the next ten rush him at once and Magnus sends blue embers into seven of their throats, choking and searing - notes Isabelle’s whip pulling one away, Clary’s sword pushing into its heart, Simon rushing into the fray teeth bared.

He advances, relishing in the fury. Two shadowhunters charge; he crushes them within an iron clad grip enforced with magic, feeling their windpipes contort and snap with deep satisfaction.

Magnus enjoys this, the dance. Hands swaying with skill; cutting through the air, every action poised with potential and control.  Rage compressed into pure heat, each move a reflex echoing time, every curl of a gesture sending those who threaten his loved ones into agony. It’s not a part of him he explores often - these days he’s a man of delicacy and pleasure, eccentric, but as normal as a downworlder could be. To pour his restrained intensity into a weaponised version of himself is _freeing_.

He gathers his flames into small compressed missiles, raises his arm, and sends them hurtling into the chest of a demon before they explode taking out another three. The sound is deafening.

There’s blood everywhere - splattered on his hands, clothes, face - and he moves forward, forward into the warehouse, cutting through demon after demon, shadowhunter after shadowhunter, with flowing elegance. His father would probably be proud at the carnage he’s leaving behind him - trails of bodies, a complete and utter abandonment of the morals and rules which restrict him usually. It’s very much a one-sided battle - many run in terror, clambering over themselves, desperate to get away. It’s empowering, considering how long so many of them have tormented his kind.

Finally, the last of them - a wide-eyed arrogant looking shadowhunter - slides to the floor with a soundless scream; he had sent his magic into his heart with a jab to his chest, and burst it in a final, punctual declaration. It was all over so quickly. He stands, frozen and shaking, breathing heavily and staring ahead - sightless - feeling the impulsiveness wash out of his fingertips, the fatigue creeping into his edges.

Composes himself with a shuddering inhale, before willing focus back into his vision.

Then he takes it in - a crimson carpet of gore stretches out at his feet. The bile climbs up, and he forces it back down, hand clamped to his mouth - it was necessary - he had to rescue - _Alec._ Magnus rushes forward and falters, stumbles at the unexpected weakness, before a steady grip pulls him up - and then his friends are at his side, supporting him. He studies them. There is shock there - but no aversion.

Simon gapes at him in awe. “ _Dude._ Ho-uh, shit. You totally went terminator there. I mean - _wow_.” 

“I had no idea you were so powerful - can you only do that when you’re angry?” Clary asks, teasing, but full of admiration.  

He huffs out a relieved laugh, “ _Please_ , I just needed a little motivation -”

"That was reckless,” Isabelle interrupts.

He blinks at her, surprised.

She's glaring at him, warrior-like, but her eyes shine with respect. “What would we have done if you had been hurt? Alec would never have forgiven me.”

Magnus inclines his head in affirmation, yellow eyes downcast, a small pleased grin on his lips. He turns to the steps leading down to the basement.

As they descend Magnus’ hands tremble slightly. It’s so dark - Clary takes out her witch light, but the glow only throws the shadows into an unsettling contrast. It stinks of damp but thankfully the corridor is short, and they soon come to the room Magnus saw in his mind.

Magnus raises his arm and blasts the door open.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments. It's incredibly kind and encouraging!

There are sounds - crashes, screams - Alec hears them as if he's under water. Maybe he’s dreaming; it’s hard to tell within the haze. Time seems to blur in this place - Alec wonders whether it’s because of whatever Valentine injected him with or if it's the effect of having long since given up. And then, suddenly - his sister’s voice; lilting and desperate, demanding he wake up. There was no way -

He cracks open his eyes, swollen and dry, mind full of fog, before everything swims into discernible shapes and - _familiar faces._

He focuses on the person leaning over him, face stricken.

“Isabelle?”

She beams through unfallen tears and crushes him into hug which makes him wince. She pulls off immediately with an apologetic smile. “Hey big brother.”

He feels like he’s in a daze.

“How? Even with the Institute there were too many - you fought them, right? Are you safe?”

He takes in the group of people he’s come to love, who have risked everything for him, and tries not to worry. Clary and Simon glance at Magnus, admiration apparent. His gaze finally settles on the warlock - and he sees the blood. Alec rushes to sit up - _Ow_. Right, the bonds.

Magnus is immediately by his side, hands glowing. The bonds disintegrate into ash. Alec rubs his wrists, wincing, welcoming the supporting hands which pull him up. He moves to touch Magnus, to reach for him, and stops himself. Searches with his eyes instead - if anything had happened because of his own recklessness -

“Magnus is fine, Alec,” Isabelle says, smile watery. She always sees through him.

“More than fine, now,” Magnus adds, but he can see the uncertainty - the fatigue - hiding behind the easy flirtation.

“He's _amazing_ \- he pretty much razed the whole place to the ground - man, you should have seen it. Let me tell you, if you ever need a bodyguard - not that you would, of course, your strength is more than admirable -”

Clary hastens to interrupt before the vampire further embarrassed himself, “He fought an army getting to you.” She smiles, reassuring, but it's bittersweet with what could have been. Alec feels sorry for her. Sometimes he forgets how much losing Jace had affected everyone else, too.

His gaze trails back to Magnus and he briefly tries to imagine it. The warlock covered in blood, his expression one of elegant determination, power held in slender dancing hands cutting down his enemies. He shivers.

Alec’s pretty sure he’s not meant to find that so tempting, but Magnus usually looks so soft and vulnerable; long flowing silk and slivers of bared skin, hair feathery - delicate. Comfortable. Malleable. It’s not that he doesn't like that side of him; it makes his heart tug with the need to be close. Sets his palms tingling with the need to touch, to connect and share warmth. But the thought of Magnus, dark, powerful and terrifying - grace turned deadly - inflames every nerve and sets them alight. Burns and consumes. Makes his toes curl and desire shoot down his spine, liquid hot.

It’s something he puts away for later, now that he _has_ a later - and Alec still can’t quite believe his luck. This ethereal but tangible man who has risked everything for him, the friends he has, the sister who refuses to give up on her brother. For now, Alec is too weary and full of aches, pains, and the shuddering adrenaline of shock to delve into hidden fantasies.

They must read him because Magnus’ expression clears from unsteady insecurity and into action, turning to open a portal with what must be some of the last reserves of his magic. Alec leans on his sister, throws an arm around her shoulders, and pushes himself off the table. Everything seems to spin but he limps through, supported within the shield of people he loves.

They arrive in Magnus’ apartment and Alec collapses onto the nearest couch in relief, letting out a small grunt of pain. He’s so _tired_. Clary gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. A private look only best friends can decipher passes between her and Simon.

“We’re leaving now, you need your rest. I'm so relieved we managed to - I don’t think I could cope with losing -” Alec thinks of Jace and pushes down the grief as Clary’s breath hitches. “- anyway, I'm glad we’re all okay. Goodnight, Alec.”

“Clary.”

She turns, and Alec can see the stress of the day wearing at her edges.

“Thank you. I'm sorry for not trusting you, in the past.”

Clary looks momentarily surprised. She nods in acknowledgement, a grateful smile on her lips, before leaving with Simon in tow.

Isabelle waves them goodbye, echoing his thanks. 

She squeezes his shoulder. “Well. You certainly gave us a lot of heartache, today,” she teases. “I know how uptight you are about the rules, so I will leave you in Magnus’ capable hands -” Magnus smirks at that. “- and inform the Institute about Valentine’s latest location.”

She pauses and seems to mull over something for a moment.

“I’ll have to tell Mom and Dad - I’ll ask them to stay away for awhile, to let you recuperate. But you know how it is when Mom worries, and there’s no way they’ll believe me when _you're_ missing and _I'm_ the one obeying the rules instead."

Alec puts his remaining strength into an awkward hug.

“Thanks, Izzy. I love you.”

She hugs him back, albeit more carefully this time. "I love you, too. I'll ring in the morning, for a check up." She puts on her best smile and leaves, heels clicking, head held high with the confidence of a general going into battle.

The room is quiet. Time stretches and Magnus hovers beside him, unsure. Alec reaches out for him in an attempt to quell whatever doubts are clouding his mind. Magnus hesitates, and then sinks, graceful, onto the space on the edge of the couch. Alec links their hands together.

Magnus is quiet for a moment. He squeezes his hand in reassurance.

“You gave us quite a scare there, Alexander,” he says.

Alec grimaces. “I didn't see them coming - it was careless.” It’s too soon to be berating himself but it seems to be a personality trait at this point.

“No one did. If you apply the same logic you’re applying to yourself, then  _everyone_ is to blame.”

Alec purses his lips - Magnus was always so good at smoothing away his self-doubts.

Magnus caresses the back of his knuckles with his thumb, absently. It’s comforting.

“If anything happened to you, I'm not sure what I would do.” A small broken laugh escapes him, and Alec wishes they were even closer. "You’re precious to me, Alec. I'm not sure I have ever quite felt like this before. I couldn't bear to lose that - to lose you.”

Alec swallows. The effect those words - that Magnus - has on him, the butterflies in his chest, feels like a confession. The flutter is perceptible through even the throb of soreness. He hides, face downcast, behind long eyelashes. The parts left of him that aren't laced with agony are tingling.

Alec shivers again, and Magnus leaps to his feet.

“Oh dear, I'm not being a very good host, am I? Let me start treating those wounds and then I’ll get you something warm. Everything else - we’ll deal with in the morning. I don’t quite have enough power left to heal you completely at the moment." Magnus grins at him, "Not that I don’t like seeing you shirtless and sweaty on my couch, of course, but there are more suitable times."

Alec rolls his eyes, lips quirking upwards. Magnus leaves to wash his hands of blood, before fetching a small intricate box of jasmine perfumed ointment. Returning to kneel beside him, he starts applying the medicine onto Alec’s wounds, hands glowing with healing magic. Alec almost wants to admonish him for using up the last of his energy - he must be exhausted himself.

Magnus doesn't linger with his touches, and he tries and fail to hide the flash of anger at every new wound discovered. Alec can still tell he’s affected by their proximity, though - there’s a barely imperceptible blush high on his cheekbones. He’s relieved at the forced casualness; everything seems to be catching up to him, building up. Jace - his parabatai - who is still _there_ with Valentine. The sickening feeling of helplessness, both physical and mental, which lingers underneath his skin. He feels weary and hurt in every description.

Magnus finishes, and with a click of his fingers a magic-warmed blanket settles upon him. He pulls it around himself tightly and tries to stay awake for a little longer. He looks like he’s about to leave, but Alec feels like something has been left unfinished, somehow.

“Magnus - Thank you. For rescuing me, and for looking after me. I appreciate it.”

Magnus looks at him with fondness.

“Alexander. There’s no need to thank me - I will do everything in my power to protect you, to care for you. Besides,” Magnus’ voice turns teasing, “when the opportunity arises to rescue a beautiful damsel in distress, I'm not one to turn it down.”

Alec groans, chuckles. And embarrassingly tries to fight down the blush threatening to creep up on him. Why he was so _affected_ by his awful flirting he would never understand.

“I will leave you to your rest. I know I look great in red, but I think I am in dire need of a shower.” Magnus wrinkles his nose at the dried blood covering his clothes.

Alec hadn't even noticed he was still drenched in crimson.

“Goodnight, Magnus.”

“Goodnight, Alexander. If you need me, call and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Alec nods. He shifts on the ridiculously comfortable couch into the position which hurt the least and drifts into a deep sleep, too wiped out to have the energy left for troubled dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

The doorbell rings and Magnus wakes, turns over with a mumble of discontent. Was it usually so piercing? It rings again, insistent, and he sits up with a huff. How dare they disturb him so early. He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn and - Magnus looks at the clock - oh. It was already the afternoon.

Alec - he was going to check on Alec in the morning, and finish healing him. He curses himself. How careless - he should have anticipated the fallout from yesterday's over exertion. The doorbell sounds a third time, and Magnus wonders how it managed to sound so irritated. He swiftly climbs out of bed and with a quick look in on Alec - fast asleep, perhaps it was a good thing he didn't wake him - paces to the door, barefoot and dressed in loose green silk pyjamas. He opens it with a good degree of force and glowers out at whoever dared to disturb his rest.

He suddenly feels very self conscious about his appearance.

"Maryse. How lovely. Here to visit Alec, I assume?” Magnus tries to plaster on a welcoming smile, but it’s a struggle.

“My son - How, how is he?” Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she looks like she’s been holding herself back from rushing here immediately. He feels sorry for her. Perhaps he’s becoming more sympathetic in his old age.

“Alec is fine - he’s recuperating at this very moment. If you like, I can bring you to him - but please - don’t disturb his rest. He’s very much in need of sleep.”

She gives him an almost imperceptible nod, and he turns, hearing her heels clack behind him unsteadily. Alec, he notices with relief, has regained some colour to his complexion. Maryse hovers beside him, touches his hand before wavering and pulling away.

She turns to Magnus and seems to be unable to look him in the face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you. We won’t always see eye to eye, but I am grateful for what you did for my son.”

He's bemused.

“Anytime.”

He walks her to the door, and is just about to congratulate himself on an almost pleasant conversation with Maryse Lightwood before she pauses.

“You need to tell him, however,” she says.

Ah. So _now_ she’s about to say something unpleasant. The niceties are done with, after all.

Maryse takes his reluctance as an invitation.

“I saw the aftermath. We - the clave - visit every location Valentine has been sighted at. We investigate and search for any potentially war-changing information,” she hesitates again, and Magnus knows he’s really not going to like this conversation, “Isabelle was quick to paint you as their hero. But I know the _truth._ You _slaughtered_ shadowhunters and demons alike. It was a massacre, and worse - You _enjoyed_ it. I saw _how_ you killed them.”

He goes cold, feels it pooling in his stomach, the dread  - he’s managed to close himself off from the poison of insults, careless words and ignorant opinions over the years, but this hits too close. Magnus remembers disgust like a scar.

“You need to tell him what you've done. What you’re _capable_ of. How do you think he would _feel_ \- “

“You do not know how he _feels_ , Maryse. Let’s be clear. If you did, he would not struggle with his identity - with himself - as he did and still does now.” Magnus curls his lips into his best snarl, “I _suggest_ you back off.”

She bristles, but he can see something - some insecurity - underneath the façade.

“You’re _dangerous_ , Magnus Bane,” she spits.

With shock, Magnus realises she’s afraid of him. He feels a strange mix of glee and revulsion.

“Only to those who threaten the ones I love.” She turns to go, and with slight deliberation he gives into the petulant side of himself, “Oh - and Maryse -” She stops. “That _includes_ threatening their happiness.” Her posture turns rigid and she leaves with the restraint of someone who is in a rush but doesn't want to show it.

Magnus feels slightly guilty - he knows she cares about her family - and then realises he’s just admitted he was in love with Alec, to his mother, before they had even gone on their first date. He winces. He shuts the door and with spite, magics the doorbell a little higher so the next person who disturbs him has to reach slightly further.

Now, to heal Alec. He quickly gets dressed - blue today, he decides; a harmless, _gentle_ color - and magics on the jewellery and glitter as a finishing touch. He enters the room with a wide smile.

“Rise and shine - I have more than enough power now to finish closing up those wounds,” he calls.

Alec peers at him, one eye cracked open and groans.

“What time is it?”

“Afternoon. I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I didn't realise I was so drained.” He wonders whether he should tell him about Maryse; decides maybe he can just leave out the last part. “Your mother visited.”

“I'm sorry.” Alec throws the blanket off and pulls himself up as much as his aches will allow. “Did she harass you?”

“She wasn't too bad.” It wasn't a lie considering how bad he knew she could have been. “I got the impression she was quite concerned for you.”

“Ah.”

Magnus settles beside him and starts healing every open wound, passes over the particularly painful-looking bruises and fades them into a faint blemish rather than an angry purple.

Alec's awfully quiet - mulling over something, perhaps - he recognises the furrowed brow.

“Is something troubling you, Alexander?” He hopes it’s not him, thinking back with trepidation to Maryse.

“I think - I'm not sure - but I seem to remember Valentine might have injected me with something,” Alec confesses.

Magnus feels sick. He hopes it wasn't demon blood - that was always incredibly risky to extract, but Alec isn't showing any typical signs.“I wouldn't be too concerned,” Magnus says, feeling a great deal of concern. “You aren't showing any symptoms of poisoning, but I’ll have to test it - here,” he places his hands over one of the last of the wounds and extracts a little blood with as little pain as possible, before closing his eyes and concentrating on its chemical make-up.

It’s definitely blood, and it isn't human - but it's not a type he's familiar with, which is odd - he’s been a warlock for centuries, but he supposes Valentine’s experiments have always stretched the boundaries of unusual. Thankfully, it’s dormant, but still unique enough to pinpoint.

“I can extract it fairly easily. Hold still, this will be unpleasant, but it won’t hurt.”

He gives a quick incantation, and the strange blood starts seeping into the glowing orb pulsing in his hands. It comes fluidly, and although Alec looks uncomfortable the relief is evident on his face. Part of being a shadowhunter is locked within their bloodline, after all. Magnus finishes, seals up the rest of his wounds, and retrieves a small vial, pouring the orb’s contents in and sealing it with a spell. It would be interesting to analyse later.

Alec sighs and begins testing his muscles, face smooth and painless. He still has faint dark shadows underneath his eyes; the ramifications of torture. Magnus wishes he could face Valentine directly - with all of his power - and reign retribution for Alexander, and for the countless downworlders who have suffered at his hands.

“Magnus, thank you. Again.” Alec looks up at him with naked affection.

He was beautiful. Magnus tries to control his heartbeat - with Alec, everything felt so new; every expression a revelation to be treasured.

“Whatever you need, I will give it to you.” He tries to say it teasingly, but it comes out oddly serious.

Alec ducks his head, and Magnus can see the tips of his ears have reddened. He fights the urge to bite them.

“A shower would be great. Uhm - with myself. Not that I wouldn't like - ” Alec abruptly shuts himself up with a grimace. It’s endearing.

“Certainly. The bathroom’s second on the right,” Magnus gestures. He watches Alec leave without an ounce of shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get a lot more heated in the final chapter, I promise!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for most of this turning into porn.

The bathroom is as decadent as Magnus himself. Alec almost feels afraid to touch anything, which is ridiculous because most of it’s marble and he’s held the _Mortal Cup_  before. He wonders if there’ll be a time when showering in Magnus’ bathroom won’t feel so intrusive - just another morning routine - and blames the warmth in his cheeks on the steam.

Alec steps out of the shower feeling blissful; he was not used to such extravagant luxuries - he’d accidentally turned an array of coloured lights on once and had stared at them for a while, incredulous. He'd spent most of his time under the incredible water pressure struggling not to remember that he was in _Magnus_ ’ shower, in case he had to turn the soothing temperature down.

For a moment he panics - he’d forgotten to bring a fresh change of clothes - before seeing a pair of sweatpants folded up neatly on the counter. Magnus must have magicked them in for him - although - he notes, amused, he had failed to give him anything to cover his chest.

He slips them on, dries his hair briefly before deciding it’s a lost cause. With a quick glance around to make sure he hasn't broken anything, Alec leaves, refreshed. He can hear voices - and as he enters the room he sees Magnus is on the phone, beaming. He pauses in the doorway, watching him.

Magnus lets out a shocked laugh, which Alec thinks is most likely exaggerated; he doesn’t think Magnus _could_ feel scandalised -

“Isabelle!” Ah, _that_ explains it. “Please, _I_ don’t need _any_ advice - have you forgotten who I am? Ah - your brother has just arrived, and… _Oh_. I must go. He’s wet and shirtless, so I'm afraid I would be much too distracted to make good conversation,” Magnus winks at him and Alec tells himself sternly that he is a shadowhunter; he _cannot_ keep blushing.

Magnus ends the phone call, laughing a good-bye, and Alec pushes himself off from the wall and walks over, arms crossed. Magnus smiles up at him.

“That was your sister, checking up on you. I think she and I could be great friends.”

Alec thinks of the combined teasing and shakes his head, “As long as she doesn't show you any baby pictures.”

Magnus lights up. “There’s _baby pictures_? I never figured your parents were the type - well, this is enlightening information Alec. I think your sister and I are going to become _best_ friends.”

Alec grins and sinks down onto one of the comfy chairs. He rolls his shoulders, testing any lingering aches. He’s mostly healed now, physically, but there are corners of his mind cobwebbed with the gloom from his ordeal, and he suspects the next time he closes his eyes the nightmares will come in full force. It’s draining, anticipating fatigue.

Magnus seems to read the flicker in his expression and studies him for a moment.

“Say, we never had that first date. How about we have it now? I think both of us could do with a drink,” he says.

Alec contemplates it for a second, before nodding, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. The distraction is welcoming. “You’ll have to let me take you out properly sometime, though. I’m a ‘ _traditional guy_ ,’ after all.”

Magnus breathes out a surprised laugh. He delightedly fetches two awfully bright-looking cocktails. “Deal.”

He hands him the drink, and Alec takes it tentatively. He sips it with apprehension and is relieved to find it’s pleasant; sweet, but not too cloying, with a hint of spice. The warmth of the alcohol isn't overwhelming, which he’s grateful for. He’s not sure he can handle getting too drunk in the afternoon, and besides - he watches Magnus settle into the chair opposite with his usual fluid grace - he wants every decision he makes today to be clear from the fog of doubt.

He’s not quite sure how far he wants to take this tonight, but as he takes in the warlock’s elegance; that surety in every flourish of movement, the sliver of tantalizing skin against cobalt-blue silk, he feels something stir inside him. He can see Magnus is equally as affected; his eyes keep darting to the naked skin of his chest before hastily tearing away to focus on something unseen. Alec knows he’s wary of pressuring him into anything, and the respect for his boundaries just makes the longing worse - there’s nothing _restraining_ him anymore - or telling him this is a bad idea.

He can still remember the searing regret, back in that bleak cold room. He knows he would be rushing things but somehow, gazing at Magnus’ face softened into affection, he doesn't think he could bear whatever relationship they have coming to an end. Alec’s already committed.

Is _this_ what love was - or perhaps could be? He had thought he was in love with Jace - and there’s that pang again - but now, he’s not so sure. A concoction of uncertainty in his own identity and a close bond, perhaps. But there was none of this ever-building mounting desire, incinerating, coursing through his body akin to hunger - to need. The thudding ache in his fingertips to touch, and to pour every ounce of newly unrestrained emotion into each exploration.

He swallows as he notices Magnus watching him, curious.

He ducks his head. Decides to be brave. “What are you expecting from me?” Alec searches for the right words, “We haven’t even defined our relationship yet, I feel - I _want_ \- to be able to introduce you as something.”

Magnus looks like he’s struggling to hide the fact he’s pleased with wariness - he fiddles with the rings on his fingers. “Alexander. We don’t have to rush into anything - “

“I know I want this.” Alec sees the cautious awe on Magnus’ face. “What I felt - in that basement...” Alec tries to throttle the memory of choking panic. “I don’t want to hide who I really am anymore - I don’t want to _hold back_ ,” he admits quietly, “I won’t ever be great with emotions, but regretting something when it’s too late to have it because I'm still chained in fear - in _prejudice -_ is not something I _ever_ want to experience again.”

“Alec,” Magnus murmurs. “I am happy to do anything and everything with you. Whatever you want, _whenever_ you need it. We can be anything _you_ want us to be.”

“Boyfriends, then?” The word feels silly, especially when applied to a centuries old warlock, but everything else is either too serious or too flippant.

“I’d like that,” Magnus says, looking the happiest he’s ever seen him. That vulnerability of emotion - the complete naked joy Magnus shows at just a few words from him - makes Alec flush.

He wants to kiss him again.

Alec suddenly feels out of his depth. He _wants_ so much, but he knows it’s too fast - this is their first date, at least officially. Except - it feels more like he’s known Magnus for _years._  The lack of restraint he’s allowing himself to explore, the ease he relaxes into with every conversation. He doesn't feel threatened or weak, he just feels _happy_. Alec finishes his drink. Decides he needs advice.

“Do you think I could, uh - another drink?” He stutters.

Magnus smiles at him and the glass is plucked out of his grip with amusement, before he leaves him to his privacy.

Alec retrieves his phone from the table - he can't quite remember if he left it there last night, or if Magnus somehow just _knew_ he needed to talk to Izzy. He supposes he could have texted her in front of him, but it feels wrong asking for advice on their relationship in full view.

He types out a quick ‘When is fast too fast?’ before he can convince himself out of it. The fact he has to ask his little sister, who is vastly more knowledgeable about the topic, is a little embarrassing. He mentally prepares himself for never hearing the end of this.

The reply comes faster than predicted, which is both unnerving and a relief.

‘Congratulations!!! I'm so proud of you, Alec! Magnus really cares for you, so as long as you’re ready - and you won’t regret it - then go for what feels right. Love you. (Text me if you do finally get laid, and I'll get the party started xxx)'

Alec runs a hand over his face and resolves to never again discuss his sex life with Isabelle. He doesn't think she’s lying about the party, and in the worst case scenario he could imagine the information getting to his parents. That would be…interesting, to say the least. He replies with a quick ‘Thanks. I think.’ before turning his phone off and tucking it into his pocket.

He can do this.

Magnus takes a while before returning with his drink. He sets it between them and sits again - a picture of elegance. He fiddles with his earring, the nail polish glinting.

Alec’s mouth goes dry.

“Alec," his voice is tense with reluctance, "I want you to realise - before I continue to lead you astray - I'm not as _safe_ as you think I am.”

He’s instantly confused - can now see the nervousness in his posture. “Is it the immortality? Because - “

“No.” Magnus looks distressed - refuses to look him in the eye. “I lost control yesterday. If you had _seen_ what I did, when I was desperate to get to you, then I’m not sure you would still feel the same as you perhaps do now.”

What brought this on? “Magnus you _saved_ me. Why, _by the angel_ , would that change my feelings for you?” It’s so much easier admitting them out loud now.

“You don’t _understand._  I’m the son of a Greater demon - it’s part of me, part of who I am. I need you to know _everything_ \- to realise and know what you’re getting into. I care about you a great deal, Alexander,” he looks small, curled inwards with insecurity. “I could be dangerous - I need you to be prepared for what you could end up seeing.”

Alec thinks of him, engulfed within his power, destroying anything and anyone that dared to take Alec away from him. Cat-eyes intense, agile hands and everything he’s come to love burning freely; all emotion bared to see. He shivers.

Magnus seems to take it the wrong way - his face shutters and he reaches for his glass, obscuring the downwards twist of his mouth - and Alec, desperate to stop him closing off, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind;

“I find it hot.”

Magnus promptly chokes on his drink - stares at him, eyes wide in shock.

Oh, god. He can't believe he's just _admitted_ that. His face is on fire; he _knows_ he’s turned red.

Magnus stares at him in disbelief. _“You -”_

Alec groans. He’s going to have to repeat it? “Find it hot. I'm sorry.” He refuses to look at him. “When you came, in that basement, if I hadn't been so beaten up and tired I think I would have probably jumped you. With, uh, consent of course.”

“Alec,” Magnus breathes, and the way he says it makes him flush, “You really _do_ keep surprising me.” He licks his lips, and the shaky disbelief he’s been trying to hide starts giving way to a slow, unsteady smirk, “Do you like me without the glamour, too?”

Alec gulps - decides he’s already embarrassed himself to the point of no return - and nods nervously.

The glamour slips away, and he tries not to gasp as Magnus leans back, open and seductive, eyes slitted and curious. He has an air of easy confidence now his insecurities have been smoothed out.

It’s hard to breathe; Alec's whole body is thudding with tension.

He stands, hesitates, tries to summon his courage before seeing Magnus raise an eyebrow in bemusement. He crosses the space between them and hovers awkwardly for a moment - this is all so _new_ \- before dropping his gaze to Magnus’ lips, noting the way his eyes darken.

“Can I - I have _no idea_ what I'm doing - but can I kiss you?”

Magnus beams up at him. “As many times as you'd like.”

Magnus’ lips part - and that’s it -  he gives in. Slithering onto his lap, straddling his thighs, he brings a hand to his face and tips it up, and slides their mouths together. He can feel the quick inhale of shock as he settles onto him - as if Magnus hadn’t expected anything but chaste.

The warmth between his thighs,  _Magnus’_ warmth, is consuming. Every nerve screams at him to be closer, to _feel_. He curls one of his hands into Magnus’ hair, the other caressing his jaw, and twists his fingers into it gently. He’s wanted to do that for a long time, and it’s just as soft as he’d imagined.

Magnus seems to snap into action at that. The warlock sinks his own hands into Alec’s hair and grips, tight. It opens his mouth in a silent moan - he never knew he’d like getting his hair pulled so much - and Magnus kisses him deeply. Their mouths are slick; they move together with an unfocused rhythm.

Alec pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, biting it ever so carefully, and Magnus hisses, brings him closer and licks into him, and _oh_ , that makes everything so much more intense.

He doesn't think he’ll _ever_ get used to this. He pulls away from Magnus’ addictive lips, panting, takes in their shine, the wetness, the colour which sits high on his cheekbones making him glow. _He_ did that - and he tips Magnus’ head back once again. Delves in, this time adding tongue, desperate to learn every inch of him. Everything feels _incredible,_ as if every nerve is screaming for more.

Magnus’ hands release his hair and they trail their way down his back, settling on his thighs. They hold him there with surprising strength, the slightest edge of painted nails anchoring him.

Alec wants to taste more of him, and he drags his mouth away - Magnus looks at him questioningly. Alec smiles at him, buries his face in his neck.

“Alexander -”

Alec exhales, curious, and his hot breath makes Magnus shiver, body trembling ever-so-slightly beneath him. It's exhilarating. Alec pulls his deep cut silk shirt down, reveals his shoulder -mouths at the juncture there, between neck and collarbone. The hands on his thighs dig deeper, tighter, pain amplifying the heat.

He kisses him there gently, before he bites down, sucks, and Magnus _moans_. It’s heady, eliciting those sounds - the coil of want in his gut builds, the air heavy and thick with tension. Alec  _needs_ to hear him, to make him lose the same amount of control. Alec covers his neck in licks, bites, sucks - Magnus tilting for better access, bare. He soothes every mark with a shy kiss; the affection feels like he’s leaving himself raw and ready for the taking.

Magnus squirms slightly underneath him, and then he feels it, the hardness, pressed into his own. Alec lets out a sound he never thought he was capable of making. Panting, he pulls away and sees just how much he’s _marked_ him - there are hickeys littering his neck, the evidence of teeth, red and bold. It’s intoxicating. Magnus’ eyes are heavy, lidded, dilated with desire.

Alec can’t take it - he needs to be closer. Feels it like a steady drum, heartbeat roaring in his ears. He presses himself in and - _there_ \- his eyes fly open as he grinds down, desperate. Magnus makes a low sound and Alec tries to control himself, the arousal burning in his gut.

“Alec - _please_. If you _know_ you want this - _oh_ \- let’s take it to the bedroom.”

Alec mouths at his neck again, reluctant to move away from Magnus’ firmness and warmth. Magnus huffs a laugh, running his hands down his back, and then his eyes glint, mischievous. Alec feels a tug in his gut - and he's suddenly disoriented - as the room _shifts_ , and then he’s falling onto a soft bed. He realises with a jolt that he’s been teleported. Magnus looms over him, grinning. Their positions have been switched. The use of his power - his magic - is alluring. Alec reaches for him.

“I could have probably managed that, myself, you know.” Alec pulls him into another kiss, which Magnus responds to with eager hunger. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Magnus says between kisses. He runs his hands down Alec’s chest, before following them with his mouth, scraping every visible rune with his teeth before soothing it with an apologetic lick. Alec _needs_ to feel more of Magnus’ skin on his. He pushes impatiently at Magnus’ shirt.

Magnus’ cat-eyes seem to glow in the candlelight, “This is the last time I’ll ask, but are you _sure_ you want this? You’re not doing it out of some sudden -”

“Magnus,” he interrupts, “I've wanted you long enough to know this isn't a decision I’ll regret.” Alec licks his lips, hopes desperately Magnus isn't going to push him away. The cold shower he’d have to take afterwards would be painful.

“Okay, then.” Magnus smirks and starts slipping off his silk shirt, slowly; putting on a show.

Alec licks his lips, mouth dry. He trails his gaze over his chest, and with a shaky exhale realises he’s rippled with muscle. Magnus throws the shirt to one side, before crawling back up to him. The naked skin, pressed against his, is overwhelming. Alec can’t stop running his hands over Magnus’ back, feeling the smooth skin, power constrained into lean strength. He crushes their mouths together - melts into him.

Magnus caresses Alec's chest, moving downwards, pausing slightly to rake his nails over a nipple. He languidly slips his hand into his sweatpants and before Alec can process, he's gripping his cock. Alec cries out, hardening underneath his touch, squirms.

Magnus pants, brings his lips to his ear, and whispers “You’re so sensitive. It’s _beautiful._ ”

Alec bites his lip, trying to reign in the small hurt sounds threatening to escape as Magnus strokes, teasing and infuriatingly slow. He rocks into his touch helplessly. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Magnus drags down his sweatpants, gaze piercing. Alec glances down, sees his hand around him, painted nails and slender fingers. He gasps, tries to hold on, each movement of Magnus’ hand bringing him closer, pleasure and friction burning.

Alec tries feebly to regain some semblance of control. He pulls down Magnus’ pants and briefs, freeing his cock. Magnus inhales sharply as Alec brings an unsteady hand and strokes it, hesitating but firm with the need to please. Emboldened by the reaction, he runs a thumb over the head, exploring, and Magnus rests his forehead on his chest and moans. He hears him struggle to regain his breath.

“Alexander. How far -” Alec adds the barest hint of nail along the vein, and Magnus bucks into his hand, moans even louder, “- _how_ \- how far do you want to go?”

He’ll take whatever is given to him - He _knows_ he needs more, _craves_ it, but he doesn't know _what_ that more is. It’s not like he’s ever done this before. “I trust you. Do whatever you want to me, I just - I _need_ you.”

Magnus raises his head, looks like he can’t quite believe his luck. He can feel himself reddening underneath his gaze. Alec pulls away and kisses him. He can’t get enough of those lips, soft and pliant. Magnus returns it for a moment and then moves down his chest again, trailing his mouth down, eyes twinkling. He pulls Alec's sweatpants off - he kicks his legs free - and before he has the chance to be embarrassed about his nakedness, Magnus engulfs him in wet hot heat.

Alec cries out and his hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly. Magnus purrs around him, and the vibration is _too much_ \- he moans, toes curling.

“ _Magnus_ \- ” he’s surprised at how low and broken his own voice sounds. He _feels_ Magnus grin around him - feels him trail his tongue up and around his cock and drag his lips over the head before sucking him back down again. He doesn't think he’s ever been harder in his life.

Alec needs to see him, and he pulls himself up onto trembling elbows, looks down. Magnus seems to sense him - opens his eyes, heavy lidded and burning with power, glowing gold. He’s stunning, and Alec feels everything rise, build, and then Magnus grins up at him and pulls off with a wet sound which seems awfully loud now the roar of lust has simmered to a burn. Alec throws his head back, frustrated.

He feels like he's going to burn up - everything is so new, so intense - Magnus was going to consume him in a permanent simmer of fire. For once, it’s something he doesn't mind risking everything for, because he _knows_ Magnus will always be there catch him.

Alec runs a thumb over Magnus’ lips, watching him. He looks utterly debauched - hair a mess and lips slick. Alec pulls him up and kisses him again, tasting himself in his mouth. His chest feels tight.

Magnus sighs his name into the kiss, and Alec hears it like a caress; wishes he could hear it forever, said like that. He wonders what other sounds he’ll make, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

Magnus must see the stirrings of insecurity, the slight hesitation of hands. “ _Alexander._ ” Alec realises just his _voice_ , breathless and raspy, makes him squirm, “If you want to slow things down -”

He doesn’t want that at all.

Alec hides his face with his arm. “I want - I want _you_. I want to -  ”

Alec reaches down and brushes rough fingers over Magnus' ass, runs them over his curves, before circling Magnus' hole. He feels his face burning. Saying it out loud feels like rushing into battle blindfolded, and touching him is a miracle in self confidence. He has no idea how to do this, knows he’s going to most likely embarrass himself, but can’t bring himself to care anymore. He's too far gone.

He peeks out, trying to gauge Magnus’ reaction, and almost groans. Magnus looks wrecked, eyes blown. Alec runs a hand down his side, feels him trembling under his touch, the small breathy pants of anticipation. The fact he can make this man react to him like _this_ still stuns him.

Magnus seems to finally regain his speech. “Darling. _Yes_. Let me just - “

Magnus clicks his fingers and Alec suddenly feels wetness slick underneath his fingertips. He does let out a groan, then. The fact Magnus used his magic for something so lewd - the casualness of it - feels forbidden. Alec slips one finger in, tentative, and Magnus gasps sharply, meets his eyes and holds his gaze as if daring him to watch him fall apart under his hands.

Alec swallows loudly, pushes another finger in, moves them slowly, stretches like he knows how to do from the website links Izzy used to send him as a joke. His heart is thudding in his chest, nervous. Magnus’ eyes are liquid fire. 

The tight slickness is unbearable- his cock is painfully hard. Magnus pants down at him, licking his lips. Alec curls his fingers and Magnus cries out. He can feel his hand shaking as he adds a third, the air feels impossibly tense. Magnus licks his lips again, and he gives in to them - shifts him closer, meets him in a kiss and pushes his fingers deeper in one fluid movement. Magnus moans, long and loud, into his mouth - and it's unbelievably tempting.

“Please - I need _- Alexander -_   _More_ -”

Alec doesn’t want to stop - searches his face and drinks up every expression of pleasure as he shallowly thrusts his fingers in and out. Although the sounds of wetness make his face burn, the reactions flickering across Magnus’ face are captivating. He gets more confident with each one, each movement becoming more bold.

Magnus shoots him a glare, face twisting in pleasure, cock leaking. “This is - _very_ rude, making me beg, Alexander - “ He bites back a moan, and Alec grins up at him.

Magnus seems to consider him for a moment, and as Alec’s fingers slip out, ready to thrust in again, he waves his hand, graceful - there’s a blue glow, and Alec thinks,  _shit, did I hurt him_ \- before his arms are slammed back to the bed without warning, restrained with invisible chains. He blinks, and his cock twitches.

Magnus smirks down at him and the shift in control is searing, both unexpected and everything he needs. Magnus curls his hand around Alec’s cock, the touch making him shiver, and positions himself. The anticipation sharpens every elegant curve of Magnus’ body, brings everything into focused clarity. Alec itches to touch, to hold his hips, and fights against the bonds momentarily before forcing himself to relax. He bucks his hips instead, tries to beg with his eyes.

“I won’t make you beg, _this_ time. Just remember, the teasing can go _both_ ways.” Magnus purrs, and before Alec can revel over the ‘this time’ he sheaths himself on his cock in one fluid movement. Alec lets out a shocked, broken sound, feels himself thrust up, hard, and Magnus’ hands fly to his chest. Magnus steadies himself, face slack in lust, body taut.

“Next time,” Magnus continues, breathing hard, “I’ll take it _slow_. I’ve learnt everything there is over the centuries - I could make you beg on your knees - _desperate_.” Alec gasps, and Magnus rolls his hips, “Would you like that, _Alexander_?” His voice is like honey, thick and sweet, “I could send my magic _into_ you, ignite nerves you never knew you had.”

Alec growls under his breath, and tries to go deeper, thrusting up hard. Magnus laughs and pins him down with more magic, rolls his hips and starts taking him slow and steady, dragging it out. It’s infuriating, but Alec can see how it’s affecting him; his eyes are closed and he can hear the small barely-suppressed whimpering sounds of pleasure with each movement - each drop and rise of his hips.

He can’t bear it much longer, he _has_ to touch him, to bring him even closer and taste his skin.

“Magnus - _please,_ the bonds - “

Magnus’ eyes fly open, and he seems to realise something - concern in his features - before he releases the magic holding him down immediately. “Alec - I'm sorry, I'd  _completely_ forgotten - are you -“

Alec wraps his arms around him and flips them over, careful to not slip out. He looks down on the shock on Magnus’ face. “Stop worrying, I would let you know if I was uncomfortable. Is this okay?” Alec kisses a trail up his slender neck.

Magnus grins up at him, “More than okay.”

Alec smiles back, and leans in to kiss him again. It quickly turns filthy, and Alec raises Magnus' legs to wrap around his back. He cages his arms around him, starts up a steady rhythm.

Magnus bites at his lips, desperate, as Alec's thrusts get deeper, each drag of his cock making him more wild. His hands rake down his back, leaving marks, and Alec feels them like fire, branding and possessive.

The wet slapping of skin on skin fills the room as his movements get harder, fixated on bringing them both to climax. Magnus’ moans and his own breathy sounds punctuate every push and pull of his cock. Alec gazes down at the pleasure clear on Magnus' face and kisses him, feels the affection for him building, overwhelming.

He's breathless at each flicker of expression, each sound he drags out of him with every slide of his cock.

He can feel himself getting closer, as Magnus starts meeting his thrusts with languid bliss, elegance and grace in every roll of his slender hips. He focuses on aiming for what seems to be making Magnus cry out the most, and Magnus’ eyes shine, his nails dig deeper, harder, into his back. Alec brings a hand down to his cock, starts pumping slowly, loose, pre-cum slicking his grip.

It seems to be all he needs, because Magnus’ eyes fly open, and he gasps soundlessly, body arched and head thrown back as he comes. It’s beautiful, and Alec hopes he's managed to lock the image in his memory forever.

He bites down on his neck as a warning, feels the twist and tug pool as he enters him again. The tingling in his nerves rises to a precipice, and then he’s falling, burning up, pleasure a single point in his vision - and he’s coming with a loud groan. The rush of it is intense, and it leaves him trembling, shaking.

They share the same breath for a moment, panting, before Alec pulls out slowly with a gasp and collapses beside him.

He's shaky - can’t quite believe that really just happened. Magnus lets out a long shuddering sigh. Turns to him, smile wide. He looks like all the tension has drained from his limbs, relaxation making him soft. Alec's heart tugs again.

“Alexander, that was incredible.” Magnus purrs, his hand splayed wide on his chest, possessive. Alec reddens.

He has the sudden urge to kiss him again, realises he can, and does so, chaste and sweet. When he pulls away Magnus is beaming.

“Can I stay? The night, I mean.” It feels silly to ask but the uncertainty seems to be creeping back as he takes in Magnus shiny with sweat, hair damp and eyes bright, yawning - struggling to stay awake.

Magnus looks at him incredulously, “Alexander, you’re _always_ welcome in my bed. For as long as you’ll have me.” He looks down, grimaces, and waves his hand sleepily, vanishing the sticky mess between them into nothing. Alec briefly wonders where it goes, but decides perhaps it’s better not to ask.

“Then I’d like to stay as long as I can.” Alec hopes Magnus catches the double-meaning. Sees his eyes crinkle and his face light up, and knows he has. He pulls him in flush, hides his face in his soft hair, and grins. Magnus’ arms wrap around him, tangling their legs together, and Alec feels him slowly doze off with each measure of his breath.

He closes his eyes, content within the warmth of a feeling he can’t quite put a name to just yet. It’s moments like these, he realises, that make everything worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes, please let me know!


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